The Path of Time
by DraconisNight
Summary: When Hermione rashly goes back in time to save her friends, she is determined to meet Tom Riddle. What she doesn't expect is to find Draco Malfoy there too... with a very different agenda. HG/DM, with a bit of HG/TR for good measure. Set at the start of DH, DH non-compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: As you all know very well, everything belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling! It's a little bit short and vague but I promise it'll get better!

...

As Hermione Granger turned the little brass hour glass for the last time, and in the millisecond it took before her world dissolved around her, she heard the distant echo of Harry's voice. It was definitely Harry's voice, but the words he spoke were Dumbledore's. Harry had repeated them to Hermione and Ron once.

"_In fact, being- forgive me -rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger." _

Hermione knew what it was to be cleverer than most people, and had remembered this quotation purely for that fact. But never had she thought she would come to fully appreciate it. The instant Hermione opened her eyes and found herself on the same windswept hillside she had just left, she knew it was a mistake. And mistakes didn't come huger than this.

In a moment of madness, sheer madness, she knew she had risked everything. Well, Hermione reasoned, not a moment of madness exactly but several days. She had not planned in any detail at all, and now she was here it all seemed so stupid, so risky, so foolhardy. Hermione sat down and heaved a heavy sigh. The wind was not harsh but pleasant, streaming her long hair out behind her. It was the perfect view; the quaint village of Hogsmeade just below, the lake beyond that and on the opposite hill a small way off, the magnificent castle that she loved so dearly. Hermione looked about her – she was not far from the cave in which Sirius had once taken refuge. It seemed an age to her since they had smuggled him food from the school, but it was only three years ago.

With a jolt, Hermione remembered that actually, Sirius had not set foot in the cave yet. Sirius had not even been born. And he had certainly not died. Neither had Dumbledore.

It was during this summer before her seventh year that Hermione had first decided on her course of action. She had barely communicated with Harry and Ron over the break, due to the risk of their letters being intercepted, but she knew that they were planning on looking for Horxcruxes after Bill and Fleur's wedding. And she had been all set to go with them. But sending her own parents to Australia, wiping their memories so they would never remember who she was, had brought home the enormity of the situation. Suddenly the quest for Horcruxes seemed unthinkable and completely laughable. How could they go looking for something when they didn't know what it would involve? Harry didn't know what the Horcruxes might look like or where they might be. What if they proved impossible to destroy? It had seemed to Hermione that there was too much risk there, too many things that could go wrong. And the words of the prophecy kept coming back to her – _"neither can live while the other survives"_. What if they didn't destroy all the Horcruxes in time, and it was Harry who died at Voldemort's hand? Hermione couldn't bear this thought, but she knew it had to be faced up to. She knew she would never forgive herself if she allowed all three of them to go off chasing Horcruxes when there might be another way. A better way.

But was it a better way, Hermione thought gloomily, as she stared at the distant twinkling windows of Hogwarts castle. It was beginning to get dark and the little squares of light were friendly and inviting in the dusk. It was all so familiar that it was hard to believe she had gone back in time. More than fifty years back, to 1943. The realisation of what she had done began to set in, and Hermione couldn't help but panic. She had completely ignored all the warnings Professor McGonagall had given her back in her third year, when she had first used her time turner. The Horcruxes plan had been risky enough, but this? This was much worse! Hermione had studied in great detail what had happened to people who messed with time, and now here she was, recklessly following in their footsteps. Wandering the path of time that so many wizards had slipped up on.

She had lied to Harry and Ron at the end of their third year, when she told them she had given back the time turner. She had meant to, had even gone to Professor McGonagall's office to hand it in. But as she had stood outside the door, Hermione couldn't shrug off the feeling that she ought to keep it, that it might come in useful some day. Professor McGonagall had never asked for it back, and so Hermione had kept it. She ran a finger absent-mindedly over its chain, hanging around her neck. The neck she had so rashly put on the line when she had Apparated to Hogsmeade that evening.

"Why am I so stupid?!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, burying her head in her hands. She had sent a note each to Harry and Ron, explaining what she had done. It was bad timing, Hermione knew that, she was supposed to be helping rescue Harry from Privet Drive next week. But it had been now or never. And they would find a replacement. After all, there was nothing they could do now that she had gone back in time. There were no more time turners in existence after their escapade at the Ministry two years ago, so nobody could follow her. Hermione didn't know whether she was glad of that fact or not. It would be comforting to know that she was not alone. But she _was_ alone. She was very alone and she had made sure of that. It didn't comfort her at all to know that she could return at any time, because how could she go back without at least trying to do what she had come for?

But what _had_ she come for? All she'd got was the vague notion she had thought about constantly for the past few weeks. Meeting Tom Riddle. That was certainly achievable, but what then? Hermione had thought up many possibilities that included persuading him over to the light side, somehow convincing him not to commit the atrocities that he would go on to do. She had just had a feeling that, somehow, meeting him would change everything. But just how was she, a naïve, seventeen-year-old school girl, going to succeed where so many other wiser wizards had failed? A mission even Albus Dumbledore had not been able to carry out. But Voldemort was the reason he was dead. The reason Sirius was dead, and Cedric, and Harry's parents, and all those people who had so needlessly died. And how many more of them would go the same way if she didn't at least try?

Fighting back the tears that burned at her eyelids, Hermione stood up shakily. It was no good sitting here on this rapidly darkening hillside, feeling sorry for herself. She had come for a reason, albeit a very vague one. And with all the Gryffindor bravery she knew she possessed, she was determined at least to try to succeed.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as she had made her decision to remain in 1943, Hermione became much more resolute. Apparating back to London, she spent the next few weeks lying low in a Muggle hotel. The last thing she wanted to do was to draw attention to herself within the wizarding community. She didn't suppose it would make much difference if she altered time amongst Muggles, but she was much more cautious when it came to the wizarding world. It felt very strange to be living as a Muggle again, but it was even stranger to be living as a Muggle in 1943. The war was in full swing and it was a completely different London to the one Hermione was used to. Once she had invested in an entirely new wardrobe, she spent most of her days wandering the streets, or else re-reading the numerous books she had brought with her in a small beaded bag.

She sent a letter to Hogwarts within a few days of her arrival, hoping that they would accept her as a student. Hermione was counting on this, as it was unlikely a seventeen-year-old could find any other position. And besides, she needed to be where Riddle was. Hermione knew from Hogwarts: A History that Professor Dippet was the headmaster, but it was Professor Dumbledore to whom she wrote. She had always put her faith in him when it came to Harry, and he was the only person she felt she could trust with her secret. The reply came within a few days – Dumbledore was brief and good-natured. He didn't enquire as to her purpose for travelling back in time, only insisting that she enjoyed her stay in London and asking that she report to him on her arrival at Hogwarts on the first of September.

It was with Hermione's mounting relief that August came. As the weeks had gone by, she found herself looking forward to her return to Hogwarts. It was only when she properly thought about it that she remembered she would really be setting foot in the castle for the first time. She received another letter in the last week of August from Professor Dumbledore, this time containing the familiar book list. Most of the titles she knew very well and had brought with her, but there were several books she didn't recognise. She supposed they had long since gone out of date, and had been replaced with the volumes she knew so thoroughly. Hermione was nervous about coming into contact with wizards, but she knew she would have to venture into Diagon Alley. There were many Potions ingredients she needed, not to mention new school robes. On the day before her return to Hogwarts, she knew she could put it off no longer.

Diagon Alley was so packed with last minute shoppers that Hermione soon found she needn't have worried about drawing attention to herself. It was more crowded than she had seen it in recent years, and it still had the friendly, cheerful atmosphere she had first encountered. But then, Hermione figured, it would be another fifty years before the Death Eaters left their mark on the place. The shop windows were sumptuously decorated and seemed to sparkle invitingly as she walked past. She was delighted to find that give or take a few shops here and there, Diagon Alley was almost identical to its present day counterpart. Taking out her book list, Hermione visited the apothecary, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions (where this Madam Malkin bore an eerie resemblance to the one Hermione knew) and was just heading to Flourish and Blotts, when something caught her eye. A flash of white blonde hair had attracted her attention at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, and beneath it a familiar pale face. Hermione stopped and stared at the figure a little way off, and their eyes met. But within seconds, he had stridden off down the alleyway. She shook her head and entered the book shop, which looked no different for being over fifty years younger. It took her several minutes to locate the right section, which was next to the window. Hermione peered out at the busy street, her gaze resting on the place where she thought she had seen Draco Malfoy. She grabbed a book at random from the shelf and began flicking through it distractedly. Hermione shook her head again, dismissing the idea from her head. The Malfoy family went back centuries! It was highly probable that she had just encountered Malfoy's grandfather, or another close relative. Certainly not Draco! Draco Malfoy was biding his cowardly time very much in the present day, she was sure of that! She snapped the book shut with a snort as she was reminded of how much she loathed him, especially after last year. All the things he had done to aid the Death Eaters! And the things he didn't do, piped up a small voice in the back of her head. Hermione suppressed this last thought and went to purchase the correct books. 

...

Over in Knockturn Alley, Draco Malfoy sidestepped an oncoming group of witches and ducked into a nearby alcove. His heart was racing and he could hardly think straight. Wiping a shaking hand across his forehead, he exhaled heavily. He had just seen Hermione Granger standing outside Flourish and Blotts. At first Draco thought it had been some kind of mirage, his eyes playing tricks on him. He was nervous about being here, it was only natural to start seeing things. But then her glance had met his and she had stopped still. She had recognised him just as well as he had recognised her, he was sure of it. Of course, there was a chance she would dismiss him as a Malfoy ancestor. The white blonde hair and pale complexion were familial traits that had been handed down for many generations. But there was no dismissing her. Granger was a mudblood, there was no way any relative of hers would ever have visited Diagon Alley.

A surge of panic shot through him. This was no accident, Granger was smart enough to know better than to meddle with time. Just as he had travelled back on a mission, so had she. Draco was only too aware that there could hardly be anyone who was more of a threat to him than Hermione Granger. She was even more dangerous than Potter in a way, because she was annoyingly intelligent. He wondered whether she had been sent by the Order to track him, whether there was any chance that they had discovered what he was up to. But no, she had been surprised to see him and he was certain Granger was no talented actress. Whatever it was, it was nothing to do with his task. However, there was a strong likelihood that she might stand in the way. With an irritated sigh, Draco set off at a brisk pace down Knockturn Alley. Granger had always been a thorn in his side, and now he would have to discover what she was up to. Still, there would be plenty of time for that. Draco swore he'd eat the giant squid if she wasn't on the Hogwarts Express, just as he would be, at eleven o'clock the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Slightly longer than the other chapters have been, and my apologies for taking so long to update! I hope you enjoy it, please R&R! :)

* * *

The problem with going back in time to a place you know very well, Hermione thought, is that it's far too easy to forget. She had just walked through the barrier onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and the all too familiar excited feeling had settled in the pit of her stomach. The bustling platform was just as she knew it, parents and children everywhere. The hooting of owls, the shrieks of younger siblings, the smell of the scarlet steam engine. Apart from the way everybody around her was dressed, she might have never left the present day at all. She stopped walking and closed her eyes, heaving a deep sigh. She had to keep focused! She had to remember that she was new to Hogwarts, that nobody knew who she was!

"Watch it!" sneered an angry Slytherin boy as he jostled roughly past her. Hermione realised he had a point – standing stationary in the middle of a crowded platform wasn't the best way to behave. She stowed her luggage and quickly got into the nearest carriage, just as the station guard blew his whistle. When the train began to chug out of the station, Hermione's panic once again kicked in. She ran a hand through her hair in agitation, making it look even messier than usual. She was on her way to Hogwarts fifty years in the past! What now?

Now you find a compartment to sit in and try to pull yourself together, Hermione told herself firmly. She began to edge down the train, glancing into the compartment windows as she went. The compartments near the front were completely full as Hermione had expected. Those were always the ones that went first. The throng of students started to thin out about halfway down the train, and Hermione relaxed a little. Throughout her journey so far she had somehow expected to see Riddle at every turn, reflected wherever she went. But there had been no sign of him.

As she continued on her way down the corridor, the compartment door behind her opened and she barely had time to react as a long pale arm shot out and closed around her wrist. She was pulled roughly into the compartment and the door slid shut behind her. Thrown back onto the seat, Hermione found herself nose to nose with Draco Malfoy, who was still gripping her wrist tightly as he leaned over her. His other hand, trembling slightly, was holding his wand aloft.

"Let go of me!" Hermione exclaimed angrily, attempted to wrench her arm from his grasp. But Draco didn't budge.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed quietly, his face as pale as Hermione had ever seen it.

"Me? What are _you_ doing here?" Hermione retorted, her eyes narrow and defiant despite her astonishment.

"Don't play games with me, Granger! Just answer the question!" snapped Draco, twisting his grip on her wrist.

Hermione cried out in pain. "Let go, you're hurting me!"

"Good!" said Draco, his eyes gleaming maliciously. But he slackened his grip a little all the same. He didn't want her to go off on the defensive. "Now tell me what you're doing here!"

"It's a long story," said Hermione, lifting her head to look Draco directly in the eyes. He saw that her expression burned with hatred and realised how much he loathed her in return. "I might just tell you if you let me go!"

Draco saw that violence was futile and dropped her wrist as suddenly as he had grabbed it. He sat down opposite, on the very edge of his seat, and watched as her fingers traced the red marks he had left on her wrist. He wasn't sorry. She deserved all she had got.

Hermione glared at him, but curiosity had the better of her. Just what was Draco Malfoy doing so far away from home? Before she had time to ask, Draco had taken the opportunity of her glowering to get his question in first.

"So? Out with it, Granger!" he spat, his eyes glinting malevolently but with the same feeling of curiosity as Hermione.

"I..I came back in time," Hermione replied, somewhat lamely. Draco narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

"Well yes, obviously you came back in time!" he said through gritted teeth. "But why? What could Potter's bushy little sidekick possibly be doing in the 1940s?"

"I came back to… meet him," Hermione said slowly, her eyes fixed on a speck of dirt on the compartment floor. She knew she had to give Draco an explanation, but she was determined to look anywhere but at him as she said it. "I don't know why. I thought- I thought there might be something I could do. To stop him."

She chanced a glance at Draco as she said this and saw that he was wearing an expression of incredulity. He scoffed and ran a hand through his white blonde hair. When he lifted up his head, she was thankful not to see his trademark smirk. Instead, he looked dumbfounded. Hermione's heart sank slightly. He didn't believe her. As much as she hated Draco Malfoy, it was comforting to see a familiar face after all those weeks alone in London. But he didn't believe her.

"I don't _believe_ you, Granger!" Draco said, almost on cue. But not in the way she might have expected it. "That really is why you're here, isn't it? The know-it-all mudblood has foolishly risked everything on a whim! What do you think you're going to do? Reform him? Turn him into a changed man? What, do you think you can just give him a flash of your smile and everything will turn out rosy?"

"Of course not!" Hermione replied at once, flushing at his words. She knew she had been reckless and stupid, but to hear Draco Malfoy saying it was almost too much to bear. "I know it was mad, okay? I know it was completely foolish of me to come here without a plan! But you don't understand! You don't understand what it's like! With Dumbledore dead, I… I couldn't do nothing!"

At the mention of Dumbledore, Draco seemed to turn even paler so that he was now as white as death. His wand tumbled from his grasp and landed with a clatter on the wooden floor. He made no move to retrieve it. Gone was the violent, intimidating Draco that Hermione knew so well. He seemed to have turned from a man to a frightened little boy in less than a minute. Hermione stared from Draco to his wand, and her anger at him seemed to return with a vengeance. She could hardly form a sentence in her head at the rush of emotions that the memory of Draco's part in Dumbledore's death had invoked. Before she could say anything, however, Draco spoke so quietly he might have said nothing at all.

"I do know what it's like". The bitterness in his voice shocked Hermione so much that her anger was halted in its tracks. She had never heard him speak like that before.

"Maybe not for you," Draco continued, staring at his hands as they shook before him. "But I know what it's like to feel sad that he's dead. I know what it's like to be the one who almost killed him. I know what it's like to be punished for being a coward."

Hermione wanted to speak, but she was at a loss to know what to say. She thought Draco Malfoy a coward of the lowest degree, as did everybody, but she had never given a thought as to how he might feel. The boy who had been bullied and coerced into committing an act of murder, and who had been unable to do it at the final hurdle. Dumbledore had thought about it, said a voice in the back of her head. Dumbledore would want her to hear him out now.

"I know what you think of me," Draco said shakily, his tone halfway between anger and… could it be shame? "Everybody thinks I'm a coward, no matter which side they're on. And you're right, Granger, as always. I am."

There was something so hopeless and pitiful about the way he said this that Hermione felt sorry for him. This thought penetrated her consciousness with a jolt. Could she actually be feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy? The boy who had tormented her for years? The boy who had become a Death Eater? The boy who had almost killed her beloved headmaster? _Almost._

"Not being able to kill somebody doesn't make you a coward, Malfoy," Hermione said, tentatively. "If anything, it makes you the opposite."

"What about running away? Does that make me a coward?" Draco asked plainly, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he had begun talking about himself.

"Is that why you're here?" Hermione asked curiously. "You're running away?"

"My parents forced me to lie low after that night on the Astronomy Tower," Draco explained, still with the same tone of bitterness. His voice was surprisingly soft when it wasn't throwing insults at her, Hermione noticed. "I was cooped up in the Manor for weeks. They didn't want me to see Bellatrix, or any of the others. I didn't want to either. But I knew what they thought of me all the same, because it was the same way I thought about myself. I couldn't face going back to school this year. I haven't slept in weeks with thinking about how they'll all react at Hogwarts. The boy who tried to murder everyone's favourite head teacher sauntering through the front doors? It wouldn't go down too well. I don't do any of your pathetic Gryffindor bravery, Granger. I'm a Slytherin, I save myself the hassle. I knew I had to get away somehow. I was wandering through the Manor over the summer, trying to pass the time, when I saw it gathering dust in one of the cabinets. I don't know how long it's been there. Ever since I can remember, I suppose." 

"What?" asked Hermione, almost breathless with anticipation.

"This," Draco reached inside the pocket of his jacket and revealed a small brass object in the palm of his hand. It was older and shabbier than the one Hermione owned, but there was no mistaking it. His hand closed around it and Draco stowed the time turner safely back into his pocket. "I'm assuming you've got one too."

Hermione's hand had strayed absent-mindedly to the chain around her neck, and she nodded in confirmation. Her mind was busy churning over what Draco had just told her, hardly able to believe it. He seemed to be here with even less purpose than she. And yet, his reasons seemed to make more sense. He had come here with the most natural intention in the world – to hide. And just what had she come for? Hermione wished she knew. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Why 1943?" she asked. "You could have gone back to any year you chose to hide. Why now?"

Draco shrugged. "I was curious, I suppose. Part of me wanted to see my grandfather. This was his final year at school, you know. And part of me wanted to see _him_. To see what it was like before it all got so out of hand."

Hermione nodded in response, and they both fell silent, the only noise that of the engine at its steady roar. Draco stared out of the window, at the blur of trees and countryside as it grew darker. He wasn't sure why he had told Granger all of that. He had certainly given more of an explanation than he had received, and that never happened to a Malfoy. Still, Draco thought sombrely, since when had following the Malfoy ways done him any favours? He supposed it was just because he knew her, because there was somebody here with even an inkling of what it felt like to be thrown into the past alone. It was a comforting thought, even if it was Mudblood Granger.

Hermione was thinking along similar lines, wondering how she had never felt sorry for Draco before. It was true he had never given her any reason to, but she was usually so understanding towards people's feelings. But then he had never opened up to her in such a manner. If somebody had suggested to her that he might tell her all that he had, she would have laughed openly in their face. The idea was ludicrous! This whole situation was ludicrous!

"So what are you going to do?" asked Draco abruptly, breaking the silence.

"Wh-what?" Hermione responded, startled out of her reverie. She couldn't even begin to guess what he was talking about. Draco smirked slightly. Even in 1943, he enjoyed having the upper hand over her.

"What are you going to do when you get to Hogwarts? What are you going to say your name is?" Draco asked her, with the air of speaking to a small child. Hermione glared at his tone, but couldn't help feeling rather astonished.

"Hermione Granger, of course!" she retorted at once.

"Are you insane, Granger? You can't use your real name!" said Draco, incredulously. "I thought you had more sense than that! If you've got any chance of meeting Tom Riddle at all, you've got to invent yourself a nice, safe pureblood name that somebody will have heard of!"

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't even thought about that. She hadn't thought further than alighting at Hogwarts. How stupid she had been not to have given this more thought over the past few weeks!

"All right," said Draco, with patience that surprised even himself. "I've been brought up on this sort of stuff, and you ought to go for something French. French was the very essence of nobility amongst pureblood ancestors. There was a fairly well known family that died out only twenty years ago, my father told me about them. Twenty years from our time, that is. They were the De Macheforts and I don't think any of them were at Hogwarts in 1943, but I can't be sure. If I were you, I'd go for that. You'll just have to hope nobody knows more about them than you do."

Hermione nodded, as she had done almost constantly throughout this speech. She felt reassured by Malfoy's knowledge of the pureblood world, into which she would almost certainly be plunged. She knew from Hogwarts: A History that Muggleborn students had been far fewer fifty years ago when compared with her own time. She was glad that Malfoy was here now, else she would almost certainly have begun telling the entire school that she was a Granger through and through!

"You also have to start acting more like a Slytherin," said Draco, spitting out the words as though the idea pained him. "I realise you're the very epitome of a Gryffindor, but you're at least going to have to try."

"Why?" asked Hermione, shocked. This was the last thing she intended to do!

"Fuck, Granger!" cried Draco, half amused and half irritated. "You really haven't thought this through, have you? The only way Riddle is ever going to pay you a second glance is if you get sorted into Slytherin!"

"Into Slytherin!" Hermione repeated, her mouth falling open in horror.

"Yes," said Draco grimly, who was just as disgusted at the thought of Hermione Granger becoming a Slytherin as she was.

Hermione lapsed into silence once more and stared out of the window, vexed. She really had bitten off more than she could chew! Malfoy was right, of course, it had been the stupidest idea of hers yet that she could get Tom Riddle to give her the time of day as her Gryffindor self! But the thought of being a Slytherin, wearing the green uniform and sleeping in the dungeons utterly repulsed her. Slytherin house represented everything she detested! It was everything she had travelled back in time to rebel against! And yet, she saw now that it was the only way to carry out her vague plan. She would have to become a Slytherin, and unfortunately, the only person who could possibly help her was the only person she would never have asked!

Draco looked across at her, noticing the way she fidgeted in her seat and twiddled a strand of her hair as she thought. She was clearly very agitated. And no wonder, Draco thought, when she had journeyed back into the past as unprepared as she was! It surprised him slightly that the conscientious Granger could be so careless and unorganised. But then, she had never truly been around purebloods that mattered, or at least thought they mattered. The Weasleys barely counted as purebloods at all! She could hardly be expected to know how much a good family name mattered in Slytherin house, because she had always been sheltered from prejudice amongst her precious Gryffindors. Well, she would be in for a shock when she found out what it was really like. Draco didn't know why he was taking such great pains to educate her and prepare her for what she was undertaking. He supposed it was because it prevented him from thinking too much about his own reasons for being here. But Draco rather thought he would enjoy Hermione Granger's transformation from Gryffindor Mudblood princess into haughty Slytherin new girl. It would give him something to think about for the time being, anyhow. And it was also when Draco reflected upon how his fellow Death Eaters would react, if they saw him helping a Mudblood, that he thought it wasn't such a bad idea after all.


End file.
